The Raven and the Dove (The Raven and the Dove #1) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,85
dark for clarity—a muddled sort of indigo that only served to remind Xander that he was wet, a little cold, and looking not at all like the regal champion he ought to be upon his return.
You’re going to be a king. Xander landed beside his mother, seeing the same rebuke flash through her eyes as they noticed the wet stain on his chest. You must act like one.
Yet he didn’t regret it—this small moment of putting himself and his mate first, a luxury he could rarely ever afford. Xander noted the wrinkled, wet clothes clinging to Lyana's body, the droplets of water spilling down her hair and onto her cheeks, the way her lips moved faster than a hummingbird’s wings as she leaned over to whisper to her friend. The princess had a light all her own, vibrant and vivacious. The very sight of her brought a hopeful feeling that hadn’t been there before. Lyana would never fit the mold he’d imagined his mate would, a quiet life companion, a figure of reserved strength, a ruler more like him. She was more than a princess.
She was a force.
If anyone could bring color to a house made of black, it was she. If anyone could return laughter to streets that had grown quiet from so much misfortune, it was she. If anyone could erase the past and restore the future, it was she.
As her bright wings took to the dark air, Xander couldn’t help but wonder if, like the rushing waters of Taetanos’s Gate, she would somehow slip right between his fingers—too much for this small island to contain.
36
Cassi
Cassi was exhausted. By the voyage, yes, but mostly by Lyana. All she’d wanted to do after the ravens led them through the claustrophobic stone walls of the castle to their rooms was collapse on the bed and sleep until she couldn’t sleep any longer. Alas, Lyana had wanted to talk…and talk…and talk, until Cassi feared her ears might bleed listening to her friend.
First the trees, then the falls, then the river and the town and the castle. Just when Cassi had thought there was nothing else her friend could say, Lyana had swept aside the thick, heavy curtains blocking the balcony and charged outside, dragging Cassi with her so they could admire the view, which was, at least, magnificent.
The castle sat right on the edge of the isle, teetering on the precipice. Half of the scene glittered in the light of the oil lanterns scattered among the houses, while the other half sparkled under the stars. Lyana, of course, had wanted to take a flying leap over the rails to explore her new home, but Cassi grabbed her foot at the last second to keep her grounded—reminding her enthusiastic friend that perhaps the prince would want to introduce her to his people himself. Lyana had wilted, a flower ripped away from the sun, but had relented before Cassi’s logic. Being reminded of the prince, however, had only given Lyana a new source of conversation. Cassi had obliged, fighting to keep her eyes open but eventually succumbed to fatigue.
She woke a few hours later to blissful silence.
Her back ached from falling asleep curled in a chair. Her wings were sore from draping over the arms at odd angles. But she was somewhat rested, relatively alert, and more importantly, Lyana was out cold in her bed, which meant Cassi’s real work could begin.
She closed her eyes again, and awoke as the dreamwalker.
A twinge of guilt pinched her as she glided across the room, through the curtains, and into the open air above the castle, leaving Lyana behind. Had this morning been her first time in the House of Whispers, Cassi probably would have been just as enthused as her friend, just as talkative, just as amazed. Instead, she’d been guarding her tongue, worn out by the secrets as she tried her best to respond without revealing that she had seen these trees and these mountains and this city many times before. That the wonder had long since faded, replaced with grim determination, which was what stirred in her veins now.
Cassi dove through the mist, returning to the floating city where her king had been stationed the night before. His ship was still there, majestic and towering, and she made her way quickly inside, too run down to linger. Within moments, she was in his dream, weaving the image to her will and meeting his stormy eyes.